


Some Assembly Required

by eloquated



Series: Unexpectedly Wonderful [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, IKEA Furniture, Parentlock, The girls have it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-31 18:49:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17855141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eloquated/pseuds/eloquated
Summary: What happens when Greg and Sherlock are outwitted by the task of putting together the new furniture?Why, Molly and Martha come to save the day!(You don't need to have read the other fics in the series for this to make sense!)





	Some Assembly Required

**Author's Note:**

> Another little fluffy bit of domesticity for Sherlock and Molly!
> 
> Chronologically this falls between "Unbuyer's Remorse" and "Reflection".

“And then we put the… it says the wider slats at the back?  But these all look the same size! Maybe those--”

“These, dear?”

“Well, I’m not sure… the instructions aren’t very clear.  What do you think?”

The living room of 221B Baker Street looked like it had been invaded by the armies of IKEA, a veritable bomb site of flat pack furniture and the boxes it had come in.  Two mattresses leaned against one wall, and the inward facing armchairs had long since been shuffled to the far corners, out of the way.

There were carefully sorted screws in small bowls, and stacks of press board ends, and wooden dowels.  Veteran father of two toddlers, Sherlock could make out what looked like a half assembled crib, and the pieces of what  _ seemed _ to be bed.  At least, he was mostly sure the larger, flat pieces propped against the couch looked like a head and footboard.

And in the middle of all the chaos, were two women, a dog-eared set of assembly instructions, a few screwdrivers, and two cups of tea with the sticky dregs turned cold at the bottom.

“Molly…”  Sherlock ventured cautiously, his gaze flicking back over his shoulder to Greg for backup.  If he had to face the wrath of a very pregnant pathologist, Lestrade would have to, as well!  That was just the way it was going to be! 

For his part, Greg cast a longing look back the way they’d come, and huffed a rueful laugh.  No way he was going to escape this. Not if he wanted to ever have another moment of peace!

_ And once more into the fray… _

“Molly, we promised we’d get these done.  And we will.” Sherlock offered, and resisted the urge to retreat (and take Greg with him!) when he was fixed with a pair of doubting looks.  Women sitting on the floor, he was sure, shouldn’t have the ability to look quite that intimidating! 

Especially when both of them were more than a head shorter than he was, even when they were standing!

“Right, and when?  They’ve been sitting here in pieces for two days, Sherlock.  I want it done before the new baby comes! Unless you plan to have them sleep in a drawer?  And we can’t give them Ollie’s old crib, because he’s broken the latch for the bars. That was the point of getting him a proper bed, you remember?  We have a three-year-old escape artist, and I don’t want him to fall on his head.” From her cross legged place on the rug, Molly rubbed her hand over her stomach, unconsciously trying to soothe the restless shifting under her palm.

Honestly, erring on the side of caution?  Refusing the offer to induce, because  _ surely _ it was better to wait?  Well, it had all seemed like a much better idea before her due date had come... And sped right past without a flicker of a contraction!  

That had been ten days ago, and Molly was so very, very ready not to be pregnant anymore.

Mrs. Hudson’s hip protested as she grabbed the edge of the table and hauled herself up to her feet, one eyebrow cocked disapprovingly at the men in the doorway, “So we decided, since you boys have obviously been outwitted by the furniture, that we’d get it done ourselves. Once we’d fixed the hash you’d made of it!”  The corner of her mouth quirked, amused at their expense.

The problem was, she wasn’t  _ wrong _ . __

Despite all the chaos, there were shapes emerging from all the clutter.  The vague outlines of how they would look when they were together. And that, rather embarrassingly, was more than Sherlock and Greg had managed.

“What was it you said?”  Molly teased from the rug, loosely rolling a hex key between her fingers, “So easy a monkey could do it?  Of course, you were both big, strong, brilliant men, you didn’t  _ need _ the instructions.”  

Greg had the good grace to look a little abashed, and coughed an awkward laugh behind Sherlock’s shoulder, “Yeah, but Molls, you’ve gotta remember, that stuff’s gotten harder.  How were were supposed to know-”

“By reading the instructions?” 

He didn’t have a good reply for that.

Sherlock shifted his weight and eyed the much more organized disaster in his living room, mentally adding up just how much work was left to be done, “We’re back now, though.  We could get it finished--” 

“Too right, we’ll have it done in no time!  And you ladies can take a break.” Greg chimed a little more enthusiastically, and rubbed his hands together.  Now that they’d had a bit of a start, it shouldn’t be that hard at all!

“Oh no.  No, I don’t think so.  First, because we’re doing just fine without your help,”  With a grin, Molly motioned towards her best friend with a pointed jab of the hex key, warding away his interfering aid, “And second, because I’m down here now, and unless you have a crane behind you, I’m just going to be stuck here until I roll myself along to bed tonight!”

“Yes, well, what  _ can _ we do to help?”  Sherlock interjected, and had the good grace to look a little sheepish about the whole thing.  It was an expression that never seemed to settle quite comfortably on his face, like some vestige of his childhood that had gotten partially lost in the translation of puberty.

With a touch of impatience, Sherlock shrugged off his Belstaff and draped it over the back of an armchair, his needled pride demanding he do something to prove his usefulness.  “We could move the beds in the kid’s room-”

“Done.”

“Take the boys out to the park-”

“They’re with your parents for the afternoon.  We’re having dinner with them when Mycroft gets off work.”

“Do we have to?  No- nevermind. We’ll talk about that after..  We can move the-”

“They’re not heavy, we’ll manage.”

With every volley, Molly looked more amused, and Sherlock’s expression scrunched a little more.  It was like a tennis match, and Martha and Greg watched from the sidelines as the happy couple faced off-- one with a cheeky half smile, and the other with a huffed sigh that sounded suspiciously like defeat.

Chuckling under his breath, Sherlock leaned over, and Molly stretched up as much as she could, to claim her victory kiss.  “Alright, you win. What do you need us to do?” 

“Tea.  While us strong, capable womenfolk do battle with the dreaded Swedish furniture, could you make us a cuppa?  I’m dying for one, but being as big as a whale has its disadvantages!”

Careful of the construction debris, Sherlock sank to a knee properly, and cupped Molly’s pink flushed cheeks in his palms, his expression a mask of innocent sympathy.  “Molly, my Molly… You’re right, it’s probably best you stay out of the kitchen. If you stand too close to the oven, you might pop.”

It was at that moment that Greg and Martha both simultaneously had the brilliant idea to use the kettle in her flat instead.  

Just in case.  Retreat seemed the wiser part of valor!

The sound of Molly’s laughter followed them down the stairs, before it turned breathy and faded entirely as Sherlock decided to pay off his transgressions with kisses.

After all, they rarely had an afternoon to themselves anymore!

… And the beds could wait a few more hours.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd apologize to Sherlock, but you know, I don't think he's complaining all that much!


End file.
